February 20, 2010
Remember Audible Althouse?
It was a podcast... of the odd last few days on a blog called Althouse. I drifted out of podcasting, mostly because of vlogging — YouTube and Bloggingheads. And then I got tired of paying for the site I used to host the files. So you can't find the podcasts there anymore, and I'd thought they were lost, but you can still listen to them here. Or here. There were 87 episodes, recorded from 2005-2007. I've heard from a few people over the years that they liked the feeling of being on the blog when they were out walking the dog... or whatever. Well, thanks for walking with me back then.
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16 comments:
The Time that Vlogs Forgot.
I have all of them. That was how I came to be a regular reader of your blog. I connected with your written voice through your speaking voice.
A rare treat. I will download them and use them for my dissertation on Baby Boomer's Contributions to the Civilized World. Until now I have had a total writer's block. Is it time for a well earned PayPal canvassing yet?
I'm sure Joe Biden remembers listening to Audible Althouse on the old Victrola before strapping on his jet pack and flying to Mars for a wonderful steak dinner with Mahatma Gandhi, where they talked baseball and convenience store management 'til the wee hours.
I listened when I took my (then) infant son for long walks in the stroller. As a result, I have very, very nostalgic feelings for Audible Althouse.
I loved the intro song.
Inaudible Althouse:
Operation New Dawn
It's supposed to represent some change in the nature of the war — presumably, that it's now going to be more like an improved formula for dishwashing detergent.
They should have picked a laundry detergent with a more menacing name for a war, like Napalmolive.
"I loved the intro song."
That song is the best thing anyone ever made for me. My son John knew I wanted a music intro for my podcast, and I really only hoped he would play a few chords that sounded cool. I said I didn't want a whole song but it would be okay if there were lyrics, but just something really ordinary, like "Audible Althouse, it's a podcast, of the odd last few days on a blog called Althouse."
I didn't actually mean for him to use those exact words, so it was hilarious to me that he did. One day he had some music on his computer that he wanted me to listen to. He'd played in bands for years, so there was always a lot of music, and I had no idea this was going to be the music for me.
I listened and was immensely delighted when — because of those lyrics — I realized it was my song — and it was so good.
He'd made the music with his friend (and old bandmate) Brit, using an extra melody Brit had lying around, and arranging it to sound as much like the Beatles as they could — because they knew I loved the Beatles — and they loved the Beatles too.
Every time I hear the theme song, I feel good all over again about the gift they gave me.
***
Brit's band today is called Polydream.
I am one of the few resistant to sound on the internet. Frankly, I can read faster than you (or anyone else) can talk.
I do understand that talk, rambling even, contributes to thought... one idea leading to another. So to speak :-)
I'm also resistant to movement on the internet. I abhor, detest, hate, dislike, despise, loathe, and scorn any animation of graphics or text that I do not initiate, including (especially!) the scrolling twitter thingie that some sites seem to think adds to... something or other.
Some might categorize me as simply a curmudgeon who doesn't like "new" things, yet I am one of the early adopters of online technology.
I don't hate ALL audio/video/animation on the internet... just that which doesn't express an idea better than text or a still photograph.
Just because we can doesn't mean we should.
@Donna I agree about not having the patience to listen to people speaking on the internet when it's so much faster to read. (I can't watch the news on TV anymore either). But the podcast is something to put on when you're walking or driving or taking a bath or cooking or whatever doesn't work with reading. If you love to read all the time, those activities may seem to need a stream of language to not feel lacking. Put the podcast in there.
About the theme song: A few of the later episodes have an instrumental version of the theme that is something John made for me after I requested something different. I tried to express something of what I wanted, and that's how he interpreted it after some back-and-forth.
Another place where audio (and video) recordings can be stored indefinitely (for free) is the Internet Archive at archive.org.
wv: hellibl
@Althouse: "But the podcast is something to put on when you're walking or driving or taking a bath or cooking or whatever doesn't work with reading. If you love to read all the time, those activities may seem to need a stream of language to not feel lacking."
Those times, are the times that my own thinking fills the stream of language. Dreams even do this for me sometimes.
Perhaps, if I were brighter, smarter, more witty... quicker, I would not need these times to examine ideas... turning them over looking at the underside and chewing on them...
It may be simply a function of personality. I'm almost never satisfied with my snap judgments until I can explain and justify them... they are often right, but I can't know that for sure until I take time to think about them.
One of the things I remember vividly about raising my children was telling them "If you insist that I decide right now, the answer is no. If you can give me some time to think about it, that might change." I also encouraged them to come up with good arguments for their point of view. Sometimes they "won". Either way, they got lots of practice garnering evidence for their point of view.
More often than not, my instinctive reaction ended up being the one supported by extended consideration.
Thus, I've never suffered a lack of something to think about, never felt a void that must be filled by someone else's voice.
I listened to this before, but it was on the ansible.
I always enjoyed listening to you.
Although I work for a well-equipped company and am on salary, I have a shop at home and often wrap up the week's work or do special projects there. That's were I almost always listened to your podcasts.
For me, right now, thinking of it, it's a dark, cold winter night in 2006, and I'm sitting at my bench soldering flute ribs together, or I'm relieved to be standing under the warm, intense floodlight above my lathe, where I'm turning piccolo headjoints, and feeling happy to listen to an intelligent, interesting and somewhat unusual voice on my iPod. If I used any noisy machinery, I could listen to talk much better than music, and what better talk than Audible Althouse?
Oddly enough, I never really listened to you at work. I'm often working there for longer stretches, and music or audio books are better. Plus, your short podcasts had an intimacy that suited a cozy, spotlit shop better than a drafty, open factory floor.
Gulliver's Travels and Charles Ives symphonies are examples of some of the recent background noises I've subjected myself to in the bright, airy public spaces at work. But I'll always have memories of Althouse's voice, keeping me company those dark, cold nights, now becoming years ago.
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